As he locked the door to his room, someone called out to Mazran.

"Hey! Are you leaving for lunch too?"

Mazran turned to look at the owner of the voice to find a boy his age, with dry brown hair and almond eyes, his face practically a sphere. From a very loving family too it seems. A bit too loving if he might say so. He was all but a butterball. Mazran even spotted three different good luck talismans on his person. Oh.. four talismans. He almost missed the coconut husk knot charm braided into his chestnut coloured hair.

"Are you new here too?" He asked.

"Yes. I'm Mazran Yavis. And you?"

"I'm Parek Jona." He beamed and made to hug Mazran.

Before he could react Mazran was caught in an iron hug, nearly ctushing him.

Once Parek let go of him, Mazran retreated from the boy's reach and informed.

"Around here, we greet people with a bow. I don't mind it, but other's might not be as forgiving. I take it you are not from here?"

"Yup. I'm from up north, Brekanj Lala, in Yuhpi state."

Mazran tried recalling if he had ever heard of Yuhpi. He couldn't quite make it out.

"Where exactly is Yuhpi?" He asked.

Do you know about the Sea of Fara?" Asked Parek.

"Yes. The Bloody Mist. I've heard of it. About two month's ride north of here." Replied Mazran.

"Well, beyond it lies Ganba state" Parek made a border with his left hand, continuing, "and behind Ganba" he added, placing his right palm as a wall ahead of the left, "is Yuhpi. It took me a month and a half by dirigible to get here. Its pretty far off."

"What bring you this far south then? It's almost the southern tip of the continent. No schools accept you back there?"

"No. They did but then there was an accident and well you know how it goes? Nothing special really." He said, hinding his embarrassment. And he was doing a bad job at it. There was bound to be a juicy tale behind it. Amd so Mazran prodded him.

"No. I really don't know how it goes. It sure  doesn't seem like nothing special. Tell me about it!"

"It's a bit embarrassing. I'd really rather not talk about it." Parek replied, his face visibly cringing as he recalled the incident.

"Come on. I promise I won't laugh. Tell me!" Mazran insisted.

"Fine. But you have to promise..." Parek reiterated, just as Mazran interrupted him.

"Yes. Yes. I won't laugh. Just tell me."

"Ok. So what happened was ...." Parek illustrated his sad tale as Mazran struggled increasingly to hold back his laughter. Until he could hold back no longer.

"Ohhhohoho..... hahahhahaha. Oh goodness! You actually sharted in his face?" Mazran cried out, tears streaming down his face.

"It was an accident alright! An accident. You promised you wouldn't laugh!" He shouted.

"Okay fine. Fine. I'm sorry. But what can I say? That was just too funny." Mazran said, half choking on laughter, his chest almost hurt from laughing so hard. He had even slipped a couple of times as they had made their way down the stairs.

"I'm not going to talk to you anymore. You liar!" Parek pouted.

"I said I'm sorry alright. Can't you please forgive me? I won't do it again. C'mon you're my first friend here. Don't be like that." I asked, putting on a remorseful expression.

"Friend? Really?"

"Yes." Mazran nodded sincerely.

"Okay... but just this once. I won't forgive you if you bring it up again." He yielded.

"But, making such a long journey, even going past the Bloody Mist! You're really passionate about becoming a magus, aren't you?" Mazran said with a glad smile.

Parek beamed a smile that shone like a thousand suns and nodded.

He wasn't the dumb brute Mazran had expected him to be.

"It's always been my dream. Ever since I heard those old tales of how the Age of Femke ended. All boys out west grow up hearing tales of the cowboys and their boomsticks. But after that ... incident back home, I couldn't well get into one of those ranches. The rumors had already spread around. No one would take me in over there. So my father had to send me here. Even if I can't be a cowboy, at least I can try being a mutant magus." He said, his voice painted with regret.

"About that, I did want to ask you for a while now. What are ranches? And why would the word of a 'ranch hand' bar you from their magisteriums? And those cowboys? What are those? Are they like werepeople? Because you don't look like a ... you know? I mean you're fat alright, but nowhere near a cow." Mazran asked.

He had had only bad experiences with those filthy animals. Wererat bandits had accosted his father's caravan several times. Why would anyone want to be anything like those vermin?

"Cowboys aren't werepeople." Parek clarified.

"They are a category of magi who use magic through their metal vessels called boomsticks. Do you know cannons?" He asked.

Mazran nodded.

"Boomsticks are like cannons but smaller. They also hold more ammo somehow." He explained.

"So they are not cow werepeople?" Mazran asked, swiping his ID imprint across the inner input panel of the dorm, opening the doors.

"No. They are just like regular magi but they can only use magic through their weapons." Parek answered.

"Then why are they called cowboys? Do they herd cows maybe? Or ride them?"

"Some do. But most don't. No one really knows why they are called that. It wasn't mentioned in the Epic of Ojewas. But according to legend, the founder of their tradition was a foreign magi stranded on this planar world. He tried to get help and return to his own world but the sacred order branded him a demon and chased him down to the ends of the earth until he learnt to use magic through his own weapon."

"The boomstick?"

"Yes. He developed his powers slowly, in hiding, taking disciples, forming the first ranches as a cover, and accumulated his forces. Then when he was strong enough, he returned and with his 12 disciples and countless followers, he forced the Hand of Femke to near extinction."

"But isn't the sacred order our prime defense against demonkind?" Interjected Mazran.

"Yes. With the fall of the Hand, many extraplanar demons with grudges against the Femke dynasty, invaded the world and lay waste to nearly a third of the continent before the sacred order and the cowboys formed an armistice to rout them out. When all was said and done, the dynasty collapsed, under the great grandson of Lord Femke. That's how the Age of Ojewas, The Free began. It gives me goosebumps everytime I hear it. It's so inspiring!" He exclaimed.

It was certainly worthy of being called an epic.

One he'd have liked to read.

"You said you read it in a book?" Asked Mazran.

"Yes. The Epic of Ojewas The Free. It's a poem." Parek replied.

"Poem?"

"A very big poem."

"Do you have it with you, here?" Asked Mazran.

"No. That's the thing. I forgot it on the airship. Stupid. Stupid." Parek answered with frustration, hitting his head.

Mazran caught his arm.

"Stop it! I'm sure the library has a copy." Assured Mazran.

"Of course! The library." Parek said.

Turning to see Mazran holding his arm, realization set in, shame following close behind.

"I'm sorry... about that." Said Parek, "It's... I have been travelling alone for over a month. It's taken a toll. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"It's fine. Happens to the best of us." Said Mazran, letting go of Parek's arm.

"Come. Let's eat first." He added, pointing to the mess hall just ahead of them.

"You're right. Let's get some lunch first and then we'll continue after." Parek replied.

"What do you think they have for lunch today? Do you think it'll be good? Do they allow third servings?" Parek asked, his mood improving markedly.

"I'm sure they won't starve us. And just look at the dorms. They certainly aren't short on funds. I think the food will be up to par. And today, I have a feeling that we'll be having sandwiches and soup."

"Uh huh? What makes you so sure? Did you go and see the menu for today?" He asked.

"No. I didn't." Mazran replied. Short and sweet. He didn't want to spoil the surprise after all.

"I just hope they have some meat. I really like rabbit roasts so it would be great if they had them. And maybe something sweet. Uhmmmm..." Parek said, his head in the clouds.

"We'll see. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be delicious." Mazran replied, opening the door to the mess hall, beckoning him in.

"Thanks." He said and strolled in, going straight to the counters to see the lineup of dishes.

Mazran closed the door behind him and followed after him, noting the menu provided beside the door. He was right. It was soup and sandwiches.

He walked up to the counter, only to be confronted by Parek.

"How did you know? Are you one of those Agyol psychics? You look very human though? Is it a shapeshifting spell? Or have you mind controlled me?" He barraged Mazran with questions.

Mazran suppressed a laugh as he answered.

"My father supplied the academy with today's rations. That's how I know. And don't worry, I am fully human. I think the Agyol live further south."

"That's exactly what a psychic would say!" Parek said with a smirk, playfully pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Mazran returned his smile and took a plate off the counter.

"Let's eat first. If we dally anymore there might not be any good seats left."

He looked around to see the hall already filling up and promptly followed.

As they sat at an empty table, Parek took a bite of his sandwich, swallowing it with barely a couple of bites.

"You know, you really should chew your food more than twice. It's good for your health." Mazran advised.

"Nah. If I waste time chewing, I'll get full faster. This way I can eat and enjoy more food. You should try it! It's great." He replied before taking another bite, nearly halving the 12 inch sandwich.

"No thank you. I am enjoying it well enough my way." Mazran stared with mounting horror as Parek all but swallowed the rest of the sandwich whole and picked up another one.

Mazran on the other hand put down his sandwich, and picked up the soup, relishing every bite.

As he gulped down a portion of soup, a voice asked.

"Can I sit here?"

Seeing Mazran preoccupied, Parek stuffed the last of his second sandwich into his mouth and answered,

"Shore, hab a sheet!"

Mazran finally looked up to see a tall girl with hair of bright yellow gold, and face the shape of a half made raisin, put down her plate.

She flipped the chair around and sat down to eat.

"I'm Parek. This is Mazran." Parek introduced us to the newcomer.

"Vilaya." She reciprocated.

"So, Vilaya, are you new here too?" Parek prodded.

"Uh huh." Came the answer.

"And where are you from?" Parek continued.

"Lwesa, Haj territories." She replied.

"You really don't like to talk huh?" Parek said.

"Don't bother her, Parek. If she doesn't want to talk that's her choice." Mazran interjected, having swallowed his soup.

"No. I don't mind talking. I just don't like to talk when I'm eating." Snapped Vilaya.

A silence descended upon the table as Mazran took another gulp of his soup and Parek played with his food.

"Why not sit with the girls there?" Asked Mazran, breaking the awkward silence.

"Direct aren't you? But sure. I'll tell you." She replied her tone dull and flat, "Look at them. Like chatterbox here," she said, poking Parek with her spoon, "they just love to talk. With food still in their mouth. Not a moment of peace with them. And now, this watermelon here is making me rethink my choices."

Mazran looked at Pareks striped light green tunic and pants and chuckled. He really did look like a watermelon.

Parek glared at her at took an aggressive bite out of his sandwich, only to choke on it.

Mazran snorted in laughter, soup exiting his nostrils.

Vilaya took another bite mirroring his smile.

Wiping the soup off his face, Mazran rushed over to Parek's side, thumping his back to relieve him.

"Thanks.... kh... water." Parek gesture at the jug in the center of the table and Vilaya poured him a glass.

"Sorry about that." She said.

"Don't be. It's my fault I choked." Parek replied.

"I'm done." Said Mazran.

"Hold on. Let me just.." Parek added, taking the last bite out of his sandwich.

He followed Mazran over to the dispensal tray.

"To the library?" Asked Parek.

"To the library." Replied Mazran.

"Can I come too?"

Mazran flinched as Parek jumped in shock.